


Formalities

by TrackerKitsune



Series: Wolmeric Week 2021 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aymeric de Borel (mentioned) - Freeform, Drabble, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Khona'lo Mujuuk, Local feral keeper fights cutlery, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Trans Male Character, Wolmeric Week (Final Fantasy XIV), no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrackerKitsune/pseuds/TrackerKitsune
Summary: In preparation for a dinner date with Ser Aymeric, Khona'lo must undergo the most strenuous training of his life... Ishgardian manners and dining etiquette.Who needs all these different utensils, really??
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Series: Wolmeric Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193171
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Formalities

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to Cat Goes A-Courting? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> Written for Wolmeric Week! I'm late starting but hopefully I'll actually finish this challenge (hopefully...)
> 
> Prompt 1: Formal

Khona’lo sighs and drops his head into his hands, ears tilting back in annoyance. “I can’ keep up with all o’ this…” He has fought garleans, dragons and killed primals. He has travelled from the south shroud throughout most of Eorzea at this point… And yet his worst nemesis lies before him, innocuously shining silver on the table. “Why d’ye gotta have so many eatin’ irons fer one damn meal?!” 

Emmanellain de Fortemps shakes his head in disappointment, sat across the table from him. “Come now, old chap! This is a matter of life and death in Ishgardian society! You must master your manners!” The keeper looks mildly alarmed, ears pinning back and up.

“What my lord  _ means _ to say is that it will impress the Lord de Borel if you should demonstrate proper knowledge of Ishgardian formal dining,” Honoroit pipes up helpfully, soothing the miqo’te’s panic with the promise of Aymeric looking on him favourably for learning the complicated dance of which utensils to use for which part of the meal. 

"Yer all insane," he grumbles, "but if I gotta be all fancy 'bout it…" The keeper sits up properly and eyes the offending cutlery with all of the ire he would usually reserve for dealing with Alphinaud; although the elezen boy has been admittedly better recently.

Emmanellain grins brightly, "we'll have you eating like a nobleman yet, chap."

"Ye won't, but at least I won' make a fool of m'self," Khona'lo replies sharply, picking up a knife and fork at the same time. "Right, 'ow'm I meant ta hold these things properly?"

"Not like you're about to stab me with them, if you please!" The elezen leans away in concern, furrowing his brow as the keeper laughs at his expression and flips the utensils round the right way. Khona'lo bares fangs in his grin and the youngest son of House Fortemps groans theatrically. "Oh, you're the  _ worst,  _ old chap. Truly, I'll lose my life to fear with you around!"

"Ya live in a country that's been fightin' dragons fer centuries, 'm the least o' your worries," the bard rolls his eyes. "Is there anythin' else I should know?"

"Well, there  _ is _ an exhaustive list of talk that should be avoided at dinner-" Khona'lo moves to throw the knife. "However! I think Ser Aymeric will happily listen to you speak of whatever you like, with how he's clearly interested in you even after you dragged a dragon into the Congregation," Emmanellain speaks quickly to prevent him actually throwing the Fortemps silverware across the room. "You don't do things by half measures, do you old chap?"

"I'll string ye up from one of yer cathedral's spires if ya don' hurry this up, I've got 'alf a bell left 'til dinner," The miqo'te threatens seriously, walking the knife between his dextrous fingers. The elezen swallows visibly.

"Understood. We should get you dressed and ready, then! In something that doesn't still have dragon blood on it, I dare say." He watches the keeper look down at his clothes. Khona'lo's ears flick back, and down…

"Turning up to a dinner date in dirty clothes is a grave insult," Honoroit supplies in the nick of time, trying hard not to laugh as the miqo'te swears in what sounds like at least three different languages and drops the cutlery on the table with a disgusted hiss. "I'm sure we can find you something suitable in time though, ser." The annoyed, wordless cat-like swearing does him in and he can't help his giggle. "Worry not, we wouldn't dare embarrass you in such a manner, Khona'lo," the pageboy reassures him with an understanding smile.


End file.
